Cecilia in the Fountain
by AlfonsinayElMar
Summary: The fountain scene in Atonement (the film, not the novel-sorry!), but through Robbie's perspective. Also an attempt at some background to Robbie and Cecilia's relationship through the years with some pretty X-rated language/themes.


**[I don't own these characters! Just very taken with them and this magnificent story!]**

At that moment, Robbie wanted nothing more than to take her.

Emerging siren-like from the fountain as she had, Cecilia was statuesque in her beauty. Her existence almost the stuff of myth, a myth to which he clung with all his heart and soul.

Her tall, frail figure, so devastating in its softness and grace, had always seemed to him to obediently fall back in the reverenced presence of her all-consuming willfulness, and inner strength; Cecilia possessed an internal power that appeared to dominate her soft frame just as it animated it. It was a pure radiance that emboldened her as it debilitated those around her—as it debilitated _him_.

In his most bitter of moments, Robbie reduced it all to her wealth and station—he would assure himself that what he so often mistook for an ineffable power was in fact pride and privilege… and those, far from ineffable, were very recognizable powers to him. Powers that had dictated his life for as long as he could remember.

But at other times, when feeling less vindictive, he would press himself by wondering if anyone around Cecilia, did _in fact_ notice such powers emanating from her; or, if it was only he who felt the full weight of her cruel might, and if this was the case, what exactly was he tapping into?

Of course, he would tell himself, he of all people _would_ be most susceptible to the weakening effects of any such qualities in her.

They had grown up together. They had been secret friends once, when innocence and childhood play could blur out all the world's prejudices. In those far-off times they had tumbled down grassy hills barefoot, their sweaty hands clasped together so tightly they might have hurt one another if the sheer joy of each other's presence hadn't prevented any such thoughts.

And once, both assaulted by the sweltering heat of a particularly humid Spring morning, _she_ had even kissed him. A furtive tap on the lips was all it was. Offered up quickly but deliberately (Cee always did _everything _very deliberately)—not innocently enough to linger, but with a stealthiness that, for Robbie, who would periodically return to that memory, foreshadowed the end of their egalitarian connection.

Time and the realities of their world had drifted them apart. So gradually had their rift occurred, that by the end there was no possibility for resentment, really. No excess of dark emotions brought about by too sudden a change. They had so slowly and so completely severed their bond, at first in their late adolescence and then most thoroughly while at Cambridge, that in the end they were two virtual strangers who had barely spoken to one another in three years.

Of course, he had been aware of her presence… of her power… throughout all this time. From afar he would observe her, study her. He would see her and her fluctuating group of new and ever more fashionable friends.. and boyfriends. Always so charming, increasingly more elegant and beautiful, she was. Many at Cambridge spoke of her graces with great reverence, but none—now that he considered it—mentioned that ineffable brilliance she possessed that could stop his very being in its track regardless of how vast the distances between them.

All of these thoughts and shared history had ruminated in Robbie's mind ever since the two of them had returned to her parents' estate. So very close for the first time in so long, and yet—as should have come as no surprise to him—still so far.

And now… here they were, and there she was. Not only close to him, so close to him that just a few steps would permit him to plant his nose on her chest and take in all of her scent and all of her being. But now, soaking wet and stripped down to her deliciously transparent undergarments.

How had they gotten here? To this point? Robbie could not quite say. For weeks their contact had been minimal and distant at best, Cecilia perpetually oscillating between indifference and downright contempt for his presence.

The contempt, of course, was preferable. At least then he was sure to exist in her world, to form part of her awareness.

And now.

She had asked him for a cigarette. She had initiated contact. And she now blasted him full-force with that might and that radiant power, leaving him to swallow hard to keep himself from gasping.

She was there, towering over him in her wet, translucent slip, which clung to every curve of her body. A quick glance down—which, try as he might, he just could not stop himself from taking—revealed the subtle roses of her nipples erectly perking from her small breasts. Lower still… the dark shadow of hair between her legs…

…. at that moment, the full significance of what he'd just seen—her body, her most secret places—brought him back.

Quickly looking up he saw that her defiant stare was gone and that she now averted her eyes. He also felt the effects of the sight on his own body, on his own secret places…. And he too turned his glance from her.

It took all the power he had in him not to turn again to look at her. Because as he heard her slowly dress herself, all he could think about was taking her. Walking towards her, cutting the distance between them, grabbing her by the waist and bringing her body hard against his own.

He wanted to pull the slip down, to throw her on the ground and cover her with his mouth. To run his tongue over her perked nipples as he wrenched her legs apart with his hips. Then, he wanted to drive his hard—now almost painfully hard—cock into her wet and waiting little cunt.

He wanted to kiss her. To kiss her so hard and so deeply that the two of them would barely be able to breathe after.

Most of all, though, he wanted _her_ to take _him_. To pull him hard against her body. To look him in the eyes and want him. To pull his trousers down with barely-contained anticipation of their bodies joining.

He wanted her to kiss him hard and softly, deeply and lightly, and in however many ways a person could be kissed by another.

He wanted her to take him.

By the time he tore himself from these fantasies she was gone, and all that was left of her for him to take was the fountain water that had so recently cradled her form.

**[If you enjoyed or did not enjoy this, please let me know! I'd like to improve and you'd really help! Also, if you'd like more writing on _Atonement _please let me know because I'd love to keep going!]**


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